


You are not it.

by hellhoundsprey



Series: crime!aus [6]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Bottom Jensen, Falling In Love, First Meetings, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Murder, Psychological Trauma, Top Jared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 16:06:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8673817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellhoundsprey/pseuds/hellhoundsprey
Summary: I went to a forest to bury a body but somebody was already there burying one. (original prompt)





	

Meeting for coffee after a night like that is, in an afterthought, pretty dumb. What are they looking for here? What things does one _talk_ about over coffee under these _circumstances_? They’re both at a loss.

Jensen speaks first. The shop is pretty busy; only a small variety’s what they got this far out in the country, this tiny town. The fact that they haven’t met earlier can only be explained by their similarly extended need for solidarity.

So, the shop is busy and Jensen speaks, slight lisp to his voice ever since grade school and That One Detention, quietly because he’s uneasy, he’s tight surrounded by this many people, the loudness and business of a warm autumn Saturday morning. Mouths, “Mine was an accident,” as if he’s got to explain himself here, as if this is a hearing instead of a get-together.

Jared looks up from his toffee nut latte, splotched warmth all over his face and neck because he refuses to take his beanie and scarf off despite the crammed heat in the shop. Makes his polite white-boy smile, hint of dimples in his hollow cheeks, drags, “Uh, okay,” because this is torture, this is horrible, this was a stupid idea and they’re really really stupid in general.

It’s probably how they end up at Jared’s place with their hands and mouths all over each other, Jared pleading for a chance to go to the bathroom real quick to wash up, he hasn’t slept nor showered since the night before Last Night; please dude, please, but the steady-chanted stream of _no_ all over the fat line of his (still) jeans-hidden dick eventually breaks him.

Two minutes into fucking they both realize how much of a fucking bad idea this is.

They don’t stop.

It’s five PM and they’re all out of condoms. Jensen promises to come back, only half-dresses and leaves Jared all alone with the combined scent of their bodies—actually does return, but it’s pizza and beer instead of protection. He flushes and stutters as if his lie isn’t obvious for both of them.

They’re unfelt, these things. Unshared up to here and unknown to even be able to exist in the first place.

With the rugs pulled from underneath their feet, they’re stumbling into each other.

It’s consuming and they’re scared, but at least they have each other, right? It feels almost like they’re gonna be fine.

Jared hasn’t cried like this since sophomore year. He’s empty in such a sore way, but it never seems to _end coming_ and it scares the crap out of him. He’s breaking up and open in the secrecy of his now-shared bed, the clean winter-white of pale, pale Jensen.

“You remind me of him,” Jared confides eventually, choked-up through another quiver-fit of tears. “It fucks me up. I’m so fucked. I’m so fucked.”

Jensen, in return, tells about the first time Liam kissed him on the mouth. Starts smiling weird, breath hitching a little in between words where he can’t find anything to hold on to, doesn’t look away from Jared’s eyes until he’s at the point of the story where they bury Mom and Liam convinces Jensen to stay with him.

“It’s strange, after all this time.” Eyes back up to Jared’s. “Y’know. To be on my own.”

They are both curled up like embryos under the blankets. A deep sense of tenderness develops in these shared, silent hours. Things get tense a little when Jared gets a phone call on Sunday evening; his mother, asking how he’s doing, how the new job is. Jensen looks like he’ll break someone’s neck, glares daggers at the intruder. Jared kisses him better afterwards, promises he won’t leave, nothing to worry about, he’s here.

It’s Monday, ten AM, and both of them should be at work instead of in Jared’s living room, in front of the lit fireplace. Jared is sore, contemplates taking the piercing out sometime soon if things don’t calm down, but Jensen’s all over it, mouth-first; says he loves how it feels at the back of his throat, and Jared can’t say no, never could.

“Stacy Peterson,” Jared licks, “eighth grade. Tutored me in, god, I don’t even remember.” Chuckles sweet, pulls Jensen closer so that chest can be buried in even better. “Learned a lot though. She was sweet.”

Jared doesn’t have to ask who Jensen’s first was, and that’s okay. Things are over. In a way, they’re free now.

“But Jase,” he remembers, softer now, “Jase was the first guy.”

Jensen dreams with him. “Where’d you meet him?”

“At a concert.”

“What band?”

Jared grins, “Deep Purple,” and because Jensen is kind of perfect he doesn’t even question, nods like a fact.

“Pretty gay if you think about it.”

“Pretty gay one way or the other, really.”

“Mh, I can totally see it.” Jensen hums, tucks Jared closer to his heart, fingers his by now uncharmingly grimy hair. “Baby-you. Fucking tight jeans. Maybe pleather. Headbanging. Sprayin’ sweat all over the place while you’re at it.”

“Well I _do_ sweat a lot.”

“Yeah, no joke, you do.” Kiss to hair. “It’s okay. I like it.”

Jensen goes from stock-still to punching to flailing to sobbing. Grabs Jared’s hair so hard it pulls his entire face back—but makes him come untouched on jackhammer-speed of that one-sidedly neglected sexuality—but squirms all baby-soft once Jared gets something into that precious Stepdad Only territory. 

Jensen fucks like a dream; the wet kind.

Jared curls and cradles lovely, like a mother.

If Jason had cherished him more, cheated on him less, then, hell, where would they be today? For one, Jason would still be alive. Wouldn’t have gotten pushed and wouldn’t have tripped and knocked his head so terribly, wouldn’t have made Jared get the pillow to make the pain stop; that ugly wheeze of a breath.

But wouldn’t have made Jared see the need to get him in the back of the truck in the middle of the night either, grab a shovel from the shed, drive out into the woods. Ultimately, Jared wouldn’t have ran into Jensen who at that time was up to his knees in dirt with a shovel of his own, a body of his own. Stared at Jared like a deer in the headlights, which he was, in a way. Headlights of Jared’s truck. Hadn’t ran either, though. As if he hadn’t cared if he would get caught or not.

Over that first coffee, Jensen had slipped that Liam had looked so very peaceful, passed away in his sleep as he did; really. (The scratch marks on Jensen’s arms and chest take two weeks to heal they’re so severe.) 


End file.
